


pour your sins on me and let us pray

by chll51



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst probably, F/M, The title is more dramatic than it will be probably, a reimagine that is loosely based on s3-s5 or something, could become a comedy who knows what my mood is like, the going back through time fic no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chll51/pseuds/chll51
Summary: The last thought Morgana has after Merlin plunges the sword into her, ending this war between them, is that she cannot die here. All the suffering and the injustices she endured, the people she lost and the relationships she has forsaken over the years will all be for naught if she’s defeated.She squeezes her eyes shut and screams into the darkness her one last wish—if I can just go back and fix this then—
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin), Morgana/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 96





	1. Oh Take Me Back to the Start

_Come back and haunt me_   
_Oh and I rush to the start_   
_Running in circles, chasing our tails_   
_Coming back as we are_

_-_

_Morgana—_

A hand shakes her shoulders with urgency. She opens her eyes and comes in contact with the blinding light. Her vision blurs as heavy breaths weigh on her chest. Her body aches like tiny needles pricking the skin. If this is hell, it’s rather nostalgic because she remembers this place. It cannot be Camelot's walls. She scans the room in utter confusion. Her hands then runs up and down the front of her dress. No traces of blood or opened wounds that she can feel. When her vision focuses, she sees a clumps of dark hair and blue eyes. “Merlin,” she jumps back and holds a hand in front of him. “You’re—” She thinks that she must have gone insane because she’s supposed to be dead, and he’s looking at her like she’s not his enemy. “What—”

“I have barricaded the doors, but Morgause’s army is drawing close,” he explains hurriedly as he goes through his things with his back to hers. “I don’t know how much time we have before she tries to come and kill Uther.”

In the midst of confusion, Morgana tries to calm herself enough by taking several deep breaths. She needs to reconcile what’s happening in front of her with by going through the facts. There’s an unconscious Uther to her right. Merlin's in front of her. She’s in her green dress that she hasn’t worn since leaving Camelot, and she barely has any of her old magic. This is not a dream, and she's not going insane. The only answer is that she has gone back in time but there’s not another Morgana here. That means time has rewind, but she still has knowledge of the past. Why this is happening, she’s not entirely sure, but she is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If her memory is correct, Morgause’s using her as a source of magic. Merlin is going to poison her, and she has limited time to decide her next course of action.

“What’s wrong?” Merlin asks, bending down to her. His eyes show no trace of upcoming betrayal. “Are you alright?”

She bites down on her lips and tries to think quickly. Base on his actions, he doesn’t remember what has transpired between them or in this case, will transpired in the future. This is a chance to change everything and possibly alter the timeline. Of course she can’t be rash because she’s powerless against him. If he wishes, he could kill her without anyone’s notice (he’s going to). “I’m fine,” she says, keeping her voice even so it doesn’t betray her. “Just tired, and scared.”

“It’ll be okay.” He then places his hand on her shoulder reassuringly, and offers a gentle smile, one that she scarcely recalled in recent memory. However, it only makes her more wary of him. Has he always known that he would poison her, she wonders, and if so, how does it not make him flinch? She didn’t think he could be this cruel to someone he considered a friend. “Are you thirsty?”

Her hands turn cold, but she conceals her shock with a noncommittal nod. Taking it as confirmation, he reaches into his bag. She watches as he takes a small gulp, which she knows it’s all a lie. He would not poison himself with hemlock first. When he faces her again, he offers her the same water. “Here.”

She takes the water and hesitates because she hasn’t decided what to do yet. “Merlin.”

His eyes dart to the drink then back at her face. He’s never been good under pressure. “Yes?”

“If you find out that you could save Camelot by poisoning me, would you do it honestly or lie to my face?”

His skin pales at the question. “What are you saying?”

She keeps the satisfaction of his reaction to herself. There’s no need to make him suspicious more than it’s necessary. “Are you okay, Merlin?” says Morgana in her softest, sweetest voice. She wants to cut him up in guilt and make him suffer as she has if she could. “Maybe you should drink some more.”

“I’m fine. I—I drank enough.” He then tries to push it back to her. “It’s yours.”

“Merlin, is there something wrong?”

He quiets, and she catches the slight trembling of his chin. She wants to shove his face into the cold cement beneath her feet. She wants so much to inflict pain on him. His only saving grace is that he is not doing this out of malice. Sighing, she decides to face him with honesty and perhaps some lies. “I know there’s poison in this water—” She then stops to catch her breath. It hurts to say those words. Reliving her first betrayal stings more than she thought as her hands shake with anger. She thinks that in some undeniable part of herself, she would have given up her life for him back then had he asked. For this whole kingdom had it needed her to, she thinks. “Morgause is using me for her spell, and I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I did not know until now. If you had just told me that, I would have helped you figure out a way to stop her, but you decided to be underhanded instead. Has the time we spent together amount to such little faith?”

“Morgana—” To his credit, he sounds as sad and torn as she wanted him to. His eyes gloss with tears when he looks at her. She hates that she cannot even be angrier at him. “I’m—”

“Save it,” she says with a hard stare, and tightens her fists with resolve. Her emotions have no place here. She needs to make wise decisions to survive. “I will drink that water so that Morgause will listen to your demand.” She knows that her current self cannot do much if she stays. Her best chance at recovering the magic she lost is with Morgause, and in doing so, she'll be able to accomplish the goals she did not previously. The less Merlin knows and mettle in her affairs, the better off she will be. She knows now that staying in Camelot was never possible, past or present. She just wishes it didn't have to be poison because the after effect is less than desirable. _Consequences be damned_.

Confused, he asks, “Why would you agree to this?”

“Because regardless of what you think, harming this city was never my intention.” She leaves out the _at_ _first_. He doesn’t need to know how much she wants to burn it down after they all turned their back on her. Whatever happened in the past, the Merlin in front of her only knows the things she has done up to this point. Therefore if she's able to bind him to her through emotional means, he'll be on her side. The best way to do so is to make him think that she has his interests at heart. She can do at least this much having live through his betrayal herself. “I can’t say that I am not hurt by what you’ve planned, but I understand. We all have our role to play. You stay. Train Arthur, and make him into the prophesied king. Perhaps when I come back, I will see for myself the kind of man he is, whether he’s made of kings or just common clay, and feel that my sacrifice was worth it”

He stops her before she could take a sip. “Morg—” He casts his eyes downward, afraid to look at her. Maybe she’s getting the guilt that she wanted from him after all. “I’m sorry.”

She gently shoves his hand away, and without a second thought, she takes a sip. Anytime now, Morgause will rush through the door, and find her writhing in pain. Before Morgana can give it more thought, she feels the numbness spreading, and herself gasping for air as her throat closes up. While she's sensing herself coming in and out of consciousness, she sees short blond hair that she swears belonged to Arthur and not Morgause.

_What the—_

Her vision turns black.

_-tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story came about after too many late nights of reading too many comics. It was written on a whim and therefore nothing has been planned but I got a general idea where I want it to go. Comments or criticisms are welcome. Nothing is beta'd so if there are mistakes, my bad.


	2. I'm Not Calling You a Liar

_There's a ghost in my lungs and it sighs in my sleep_   
_Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks_   
_Then it walks, then it walks with my legs_   
_To fall, to fall, to fall at your feet_

-

Arthur finds her three months earlier than he’s supposed to.

( _The bastard…_ )

In the past timeline, he found her one year after her disappearance though it was more that she wanted to be found. This time around, she managed to convince Morgause to take her to the Isle of the Blessed since she had learned all the enchantments and spells within 6 months of being trained. Morgause was surprised, but Morgana couldn’t explain to her that it was due to her memories being intact. She reasoned that it must be of her affinity for magic. Morgause didn’t question it, so Morgana planned to delay her return and come back roughly two years later, not only delaying the reunion a bit more, but also to give herself a chance to be stronger the next time she faces Merlin.

Sighing, Morgana wonders if it’s better off just to kill Arthur now since he’s without any knights, including that hateful Merlin, but Arthur’s actions truly baffle her. Doesn’t he understand that he’s the heir the throne should something happen to Uther? How could he be so careless to wander into an unknown place without any backup? Shaking her head, she decides to hold herself back from taking further actions in regard to him. He probably thinks that he’s being helpful, and stumbles onto the fortress on accident. The detection spells she set up goes off like a siren inside her head, and probably Morgause's as well, as soon as his steps make contact with the ground.

Thankfully, she manages to convince Morgause to put their plan into motion and disappears from the fortress instead of killing Arthur. There are guards here waiting for his arrival. Morgana knows that they will be fine facing Arthur since he’s not the type to kill unless it’s his last option. Thus, when he comes upon her in the dungeon like many times in their youth, she makes sure that she looks as grimy, worned down, and uncomfortable as possible. She even makes sure both her wrist has cuff marks to relay any suspicions on his part. “Arthur.”

“Morgana—” He immediately bends down to meet her eye level. The sheen on his forehead is clearly visible, as well as the heaving of his chest. He must have been thoroughly tested in order to get to her. Without a second more, he hurriedly uses the keys he got from the guards and opens the dungeon. Once he did, Morgana jumps into his arms. Relief cannot describe how he feels. He was worried out of his mind during these past months that she was gone that he could neither eat nor sleep well, but all of that can be for later. She’s now safe and that’s all that matters. When he runs his hands up and down her back, she feels smaller in his arms somehow which makes him unease. He gently pulls away to fully examine her condition and notices that she has already passed out.

He supposes that they’ll have all the time in the world to discuss what transpired in the last nine months.

Morgana knows that if redemption is what she seeks, then kindness would be the answer, and perhaps through it, the ban on magic could be lifted this time around. Had she been a young ward like she was, she might believe it and strive to be it. Alas, this naïve thought only occurred to her once or twice during her time spent in isolation. Many other thoughts took precedent during her stay with Morgause, as she was busy molding herself to be what Morgause’s wanted as she hid herself away, as well as biding her time to plan out her moves to get what she wanted. Morgause’s process, the stripping of one’s personhood until they devote their entire being to the cause, was a familiar lesson she learned through the years; and if she has to really dig deep, it was not a different lesson from that of Uther’s. There was always kindness after cruelty, though she did not doubt that both have loved her, but she also cannot deny that they both harmed her.

Once those thoughts leave her mind, she quietly stirs from her sleep and realizes that she’s back in her bed. She has casted an enchantment on herself earlier after Arthur found her so that she wouldn’t have to speak with him and answer any probing questions that she might not be prepared for. It seemed the spell has worked _too well_ since it’s now night time. Sighing, she sits up, hoping to get a glass of water. Out of the corner of her eyes, a shadow moves. Surprise, she immediately says, “Who’s there?”

“Morg—it’s me,” Arthur says calmly as he approaches closer. He raises his two hands in surrender to show her that he means no harm.“My apologies for scaring you.”

She pulls the covers over her chest, protecting her propriety, and glares. “What are you doing in my chambers?”

Before he replies, he goes out to the hallway and returns with a light that he places near her bedside table to give the room some visibility. “I wanted to make sure you were alright, so I relieved Gwen of her nightly duties and took post instead.” The light from the candle illuminates his face, giving him a golden glow. It’s then that she sees how tired he looked, though he seems pleased that she’s awake if the small, satisfied smile on his lip is any indication. “Do you need anything?”

“Water.” She then clears her throat. She’s been asleep for more 12 hours, and her throat’s beyond parched. “Please.”

He nods, then hands her a cup. When she finishes, he collects it and puts it outside. His gesture makes her apprehensive because everything is proceeding differently from the past. Not only the event but his demeanor has also change, but it has to do with how he has not taken his eyes off her. To outsiders, it can be considered looks of concerned, but she has grown up with him. She knows him like the back of her hand, down to all the scars and scrapes, which is why the first thing she can think of is that he knows something about her. Maybe Merlin lets it slip that she voluntarily agreed to go with Morgause.

“Morgana.” He finally interrupts the engulfing, and suffocating silence between them. “Are you alright?”

If she wasn’t playing the damsel in distress, she’d have knocked him sideway. Who asks a lady that’s been gone for almost a year, with scrapes on her knees and elbows if they’re alright? Shouldn’t he know just from looking?

Arthur then takes both of her hands into his. “I’m so sorry that we couldn’t find you sooner.” His voice is filled with regret. “If I was just a few minutes earlier—”

His statement piques her interest, realizing that what she saw was correct. Arthur saw her before Morgause did, which causes concerns because the event did not proceed as it should have. “What do you mean?”

“I—”He starts to say, but then holds himself back. “It’s nothing. Just that if I was earlier, then Morgause wouldn’t have been able to take you so easily. It must have been terrifying waking up after being poisoned like that.”

He’s hiding something from her, and it irritates her that she cannot ask him what it is. No matter, she’ll talk with Merlin first, then investigates matters with Arthur after.“I’m just so glad to be home,” she quietly answers with a weak smile and coughs into the covers. She wonders if he's buying her act at all. “Because it’s quite late, would you mind continuing the conversation tomorrow? I would like to rest.”

He has a strange look on his face, then nods. With a hand on her shoulder, and the other still holding her hand in his, “Forgive me. I am behaving boorishly,” he says apologetically, and gives her hand a small squeeze. “Rest assure that you’re safe now.”

She stares at his retreating back and notes at his strange mood. He’s never been one for deception or lies, but tonight, it feels like there’s a secret hanging on the tip of his tongue that he’s not willing to part with. Regardless, she has to push this matter back and deal with it later. In three days, she’ll meet up with Morgause, but tomorrow, she will need to see Merlin.

Everything starts tomorrow.

_\- tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Criticisms and comments are always welcome. Also, no, the title of the chapter/song doesn't have anything to do with the chapter itself. I just suck at titling.


	3. The Saints Can't Help Me Now

_I don’t trust nobody and nobody trusts me_

_I’ll be the actress starring your bad dream_

-

Morgana wakes up in cold sweat, screaming and shaking from the feverish nightmare. Her hands unsteadily check on her chest for puncture wounds before running over the rest of her body, as if she’s still trap in her dream. Her breathing hiccups as she chokes back the sobs. Everything still blurs when a warm hand grabs onto her. She pulls back, stares wildly like an animal caught in a trap and struggles violently, trying to shake off the hold. “Morgana—”Gwen’s warm voice grabs ahold of her. “It’s me.”

She grabs onto Gwen like a lifeline and heaves heavy breaths. Her whole body trembles as she mutters, “Gwen.” She sees film of red in her sight, bodies falling and hears screams in her ears. She wonders if the gruesome future she lived through will repeat itself once again, and all her efforts now would be in vain. She closes her eyes and squeezes Gwen tightly. “It felt real.” She bites back her tongue to say otherwise. Her hands still tremble as she tries to calm down. “It was real.”

“You’re safe.” Gwen’s hands run up and down her back until she feels Morgana relaxing. “Should I ask Gaius for a sleeping draught?”

Morgana shakes her head, remembering how lethargic, vulnerable and weak she felt afterward. She would rather die than feel helpless again. “Thank you though.”

Gwen’s gentle hands cup her face as Morgana slowly regains her composure. As she stares into Gwen's eyes, she wonders how long she has until Gwen turns against her. The thought makes her chest heavier. “Would you like something to eat?”

Morgana nods, not trusting her voice just yet. She then watches Gwen leave before scolding herself for letting Gwen sees her in such a defeated state. If one nightmare can throw her off, then how can she expect to change the future that she knows of? Her fingers fist in the blankets, slowly losing their colors from being squeeze too tight. Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t notice that Arthur has been standing by the door, watching her with a curious gaze.

It's strange, he thinks, even though she’s the girl he found and brought back, the girl he knew is not the one that came back with him. She looks at him as if she’s calculating every word she says, and everything she does like she’s afraid of slipping up and lets one of her secrets fall. Of course, Morgana always had her secrets, and he knows well enough not to pry, but it feels like he has already lost her somehow. When Gwen returns, he takes the tray of food and knocks on the door in her place. When Morgana looks over, he momentarily sees a shadow flicker in her eyes, but it disappears before he could make sense out of it. “I asked Gwen to let me deliver your meal.”

She gives a small, nervous smile and nods.

“I asked the cook to make you some porridge since it might be hard on the stomach for solid food right now.” He then carefully places it nearby on a chair so it doesn’t fall and hands her a glass of water first. “How did you sleep? I heard that a nightmare woke you up this time.”

She freezes momentarily and tightens her grip on the glass. Morgana tries to recall if she ever told him or has he ever disclosed that he knows about them previously. The only memory that comes to her mind is the time she begged him to stay behind in Camelot, but that was years ago. There are too many things since then to account for so she cannot remember this small detail.

Seeing her quiet, he confesses with small embarrassment. “Well— The last time, you ran down the steps when I was going to venture out with the knights.” He then rubs the back of his neck as his cheeks flush. “Before that, you warned me about Sophia because of a dream you had, so I put two and two together. It’s all assumption, of course.”

Her lips part in surprised. Perhaps she should have given him more credit since she didn’t think he has paid her any mind or attention to details. “Oh, right.”

“Gwen told me you didn’t want a sleeping draught.”

“They do not stop the nightmare, and only make me feel worse after.” She finds it uncomfortable under his unwavering gaze. He’s been strange since she’s been back, more solemn and quiet in his thoughts as well. “You look troubled,” says Morgana, breaking the silence. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Will you tell me if I ask?”

“I can try.”

Arthur then takes a small seat. His arms hang loosely in front of him, intertwining nervously. She can tell the way his shoulders slump that he’s going through some inner turmoil. He’s probably not confident that he wants to hear what she might say. His eyes don’t stray from the ground when he speaks. “Do you have a relationship with Morgause?”

Her hands inadvertently grip the sheets. “Meaning?”

“Is she your sister?” asks Arthur, locking eyes at her.

Her heart stops momentarily as she tries to read his expression. When she sees no malice behind his words, she lets go of the breath that she’s been holding. It should be fine to tell him the truth. “Yes.” She knows what he will ask next and bites her lips to think of an answer that will curb the curiosity in him.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t follow up with anything else relating to Morgause. Instead he looks down again like he’s ashamed of what he’s saying next.“When I rush into the room nine months ago, I saw you collapsed. I was just mere minutes before Morgause took you.” His voice thickens with emotion. “I wanted to understand why she would risk victory to save you. It wasn’t until I discover her lineage that I understood, but the one thing I couldn’t reconcile after so many sleepless night—”

“Which is?”

“How did you consume poison? There was only you and Merlin. My father was unconscious at the time. It didn’t add up. Merlin couldn’t provide an adequate explanation either.”

Right, isn’t that the question of the hour? If she says Merlin did it, he’ll most likely have Merlin imprisoned or worse, killed. That thought does bring her some joy, and while that is not a loss to her in any way, Merlin may be someone that she’ll need some day. It’s undetermined how her relationship with Morgause will turn out so it’s best to have unwilling ally than a dead one. On the other hand, Arthur said that he looked into the matter. Then it is more than likely that he has already looked into her poisoning as well, and may know something that she doesn’t. If she lies, and he figures it out, she’ll lose any trust that he has in her. “The thing is—” Her reply gets cut off by the crash outside her door. They both turn toward the sound and sees a red face Merlin.

Merlin's eyes nervously dart between the two of them before he hastily explains, “Sire, your father is looking for you. There seems to be an emergency.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow in annoyance. “About?”

Merlin shrugs, which earns a dissatisfied grunt from Arthur. “It seems we will resume our conversation another time,” Arthur says, disappointed. “I’ll go see what father wants.” He bids her a quick farewell and shoves Merlin when he passes. Merlin watches his back and breathes with relief. That was close, he thinks. He knew that Arthur was suspicious about what happened nine months ago. He thought that by covering his track and tossing away any evidence, he could appease Arthur's curiosity. Sadly, he did not succeed as Arthur never stopped going over all the details pertaining to that room.

“Merlin.”

The hair on his back stand up, and he gulps. He could feel a threatening aura radiating behind him. Slowly he turns around and sees a dissatisfied Morgana, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. “Morgana.”

She calmly eats her porridge, and asks in a quiet voice. “What happened while I was gone? Why is Arthur curious about such a thing?”

“Well you see—he—well,” Merlin then stumbles on his words. “I’m not sure. It’s a recent event actually. He wakes up one day, pulled me out of bed and tried to get me to recall anything from the day of your kidnapping. He also behaved rather recklessly too. In fact, he was the one that left camp and went to find you by himself. He was adamant that he could find you.”

Hearing that, it gets her brain thinking that perhaps she might not be the only one with memories. Though that conclusion doesn’t make any sense either. Because if Arthur knows what she knows, why would he need to confirm her relationship with Morgause? He already knew about that in the past. His line of questioning doesn’t show that he remembers anything more, but nothing about him makes any sense to her so far. “How is his relationship with Gwen?”

“You know about that?”

“Anyone with eyes know about that,” she replies, finishing up the last bite of her porridge. “I’m assuming that they’ve been progressing well. A year ago, they were practically shooting love darts at each other.”

Merlin scratches neck, a nervous habit he no doubt picked up from Arthur. “It’s paused.”

“What?” she blurts out accidentally. This isn’t what supposed to happen. In her last life, their bond had strengthened to the point where he was willing to risk it all for Gwen. Things cannot go off route this much. Something's awry and she's not seeing it. “What do you mean, _paused_?”

“Since you’ve been gone, he has dedicated all his time to finding you and well,” Merlin explains, then shakes his head with a sigh. “Now that you’re back, perhaps Arthur and Gwen will resume. I cannot say for sure.”

That’s a new development that might be useful in the future for what she has planned if she can get everything in order, including Morgause. “Well then, let’s make sure the lovebirds fall in love again,” she simple says instead of divulging her thoughts. “About what we agreed before my untimely poisoning—”

“About that—”

“No, Merlin. We had an agreement,” she cuts in sharply, and is irritated when she remembers that she lost out to him in her last life. If he's of no use to her now, there's no point having him around because he hasn't yet forgotten nor forgiven him for what he has done. Everyday is a risk to let him stay alive, and the only reason that he's even able to breathe at this moment is his possible usefulness. “Yet the way you floundering has me question your capability so I will see for myself if you have fulfilled your end of the bargain soon enough. For now, the time for celebration is coming.”

Merlin’s brow raises. “Celebration?”

“What did you think Uther called Arthur for? He wants to throw a banquet welcoming me back, as well as celebrating Camelot's peaceful stage. I, too, would like to give him a gift.”

“Is this something I should be worried about?”

“Not yet,” she answers sweetly with a smile. “I told you. I’m on your side.”

Somehow, Merlin thinks that he has made a deal with the devil and part of him is unsure of how he will proceed.

- _tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm sorry for the delay in update. I couldn't decide the path I wanted this story to take but now I got a clearer idea. The next update hopefully will be shorter. As always, comment or criticism is welcome. All mistakes are mine.


	4. Fire Meets Fate

_It's in our flesh, it's in our blood_   
_This reckoning has just begun_   
_Like gravity from underneath_   
_We can't outrun our destiny_

-

The day of the banquet, Morgana lets her dark curl loose and dons a cream dress, embroidered with gold embellishment. Her lips are painted red, and as she stares at herself, she cannot recognize her polished self reflected in the wine glass she holds. She touches to her face, unable to recall the last time she was this made up. She can still see the dirt and grime underneath it all. “Are you alright, Morgana?” asks Gwen, growing worry at her continual silent and pale face. “You look troubled.”

She casts Gwen a gentile smile and softly says, “It’s been awhile so I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

Gwen nods like she understands and looks around at the crowded banquet hall. “Uther has been ecstatic to have you back. He practically invited all the nobles and neighboring allies tonight.”

Morgana bites back her snarky retort. She knows that nothing he done has ever been about her. Even now, she’s being paraded around like a prize, seeing how many kings and princes she was introduced to. It took all her effort not to cast a spell and kill them all.

“You don’t look excited for this banquet.”

She circles her finger around the rim of the glass, not looking at Gwen. “They’re stuffy old men who’s looking to match their sons with me. I guess you can say that I would rather not humor them in such delusions.”

Gwen looks surprised. “Don’t you think about getting married one day?”

It’s an absurd notion if she has ever heard one since her life in Camelot is anything but her own. Her marriage will be for political gain because Uther wouldn’t miss his chance to expand his empire if he could. Maybe once, she has childish notion of marrying someone she loved. Arthur used to be one of those choices, but everything changed overnight, and to say that she isn’t bitter would be a lie. “What about you?” asks Morgana back; her eyes lock on Gwen, watching her expression carefully. She hasn’t heard anything new regarding Gwen and Arthur, and Merlin has stayed out of sight, probably busy with whatever tasks Arthur handed him. She’s not entirely what her goal is when she adds, “Are you and Arthur alright?”

Gwen clears her throat as a blush creeps up her cheeks. "I didn’t know that you know. I wasn’t trying to—”

“It was very obvious from your faces,” Morgana finishes with a grin, and grabs ahold of Gwen’s hands. She then gives them a light squeeze. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but Arthur has always been an idiot. I can almost guarantee that he’s sulking somewhere at the thought of losing you.”

Though she said so, other than escorting her here and only staying for a few brief moments, Arthur has pretty much disappeared. She thought it was strange at first, but then she assumed that he must have gone to find Gwen. The guess was wrong when Gwen came to her instead. “Speaking of Arthur, and by extension Merlin, I wonder where they both went?”

Gwen lifts her head and looks around the room, then shakes her head.

Morgana has no intention of looking for either of them until an image of Morgause appears in her drink and her voice wanders into her mind, telling her that they must meet. Quickly, Morgana gives Gwen a light tap. “Why don’t we both search for them? I’ll take Merlin.”

Blushing, Gwen nods and takes her leave first.

Morgana sighs with relief but her tightly formed fists remain. Since coming back, it has been hard to breakaway without prying eyes. They all afraid that she might break if they blink. It’s nice that they cared after it’s too late. Good thing’s that everyone’s currently drunk or oblivious, and now that Gwen’s on a wild goose chase to find Arthur, she can find Morgause and appease her.

Suddenly, a noise breaks out down the hall. Morgana can hear screaming, then complete silence. She looks around but no one seems to notice it except her, probably because they’re drowning in wine and music. A couple of moment passes, a guard runs in and whispers something into Uther’s ears. The smile on his lips takes an immediate downturn, and they both whispers back and forth before he follows the guard out.

Morgana’s curious eyes follows them, along with her feet.

She hides in the shadows, watching Merlin, Arthur and Uther convene in a quiet room. There are words exchange that she couldn’t catch since their voices are barely above a whisper. From the grave expression on their face, something important must have occurred. She hears Arthur raising his voice before Uther cuts it off with do you remember what happened to Morgana, quieting him once and for all. She watches his knuckles turning white, unable to admit defeat, after Uther stormed out of the room.

Morgana waits quietly on the side until Merlin leaves to pull him beside her. He struggles after being taken back and startled out of nowhere. She immediately covers his mouth and hushes him. “It’s me,” she whispers. Their mouth barely inches apart. “So calm down.”

His brows furrow together as his blue eyes stare at her in confusion, wondering why and how she got here. Then he looks down and notices her body presses against her, and he can feel her softness against his chest. His cheeks burn in embarrassment as his mouth runs dry. He wants to say something but Morgana’s eyes aren’t on him and are instead on the door, watching out for Arthur.

A few minutes feels like a lifetime, especially since she has made no indication of moving away. He tries not to look down because her dress cuts lower than he’d like, and he can see things that he shouldn’t if his eyes make their way downward. It’s not the first time they’re in a compromising position, but he has never been comfortable before or now, so he closes his eyes and inhales sharply to regain some sort of control.

Her green eyes fixate on him, unaware and unbothered by slightly his reddened face. “What happened?”

He glances around first, then pulls her to a different corner for more privacy. He makes sure that there is space in between them. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much beside Arthur telling Uther something and him storming out,” says Morgana, with a shrug. “What happened to make Uther looks like he’s out for blood?”

Merlin sighs, and runs his finger through his hair. “They found a witch.”

“On castle’s ground?”

Merlin nods.

“How? Most of them know better than to do magic in the open.”

“I’m not sure. She was found trying to perform some sort of spells. One of the guards stumbled upon her.”

Her brows pucker together suspiciously. “Did she attack first?”

“The details are unclear, but it looks like she did not put up any fight.”

“Then, did anyone ask her what she was doing here?”

“She said she was lost so she was using her magic to leave.” Her explanation was a flimsy excuse because it’s common knowledge that Uther has zero tolerance for magical beings. No one in the kingdom is clueless to such notion, and to be caught right in the tiger’s den, Merlin sighs, then shakes his head of further thoughts. “The guards subdued her and told Arthur. The rest, I think you can put it together.”

She watches him squirming under her stare and asks without blinking, “Are you going to save her?”

The news of a witch being caught spread like wild fires through Camelot. Gwen’s the one that tells her, half regretful and half resigned like an innocent life’s not about to be executed. Morgana says nothing, only stares into space, and thinks back to her conversation with Merlin, who doesn’t offer an answer to her question. She’s not sure why she’s disappointed because he’s always been a passive observer. He only fights when his back is pushed against the wall.

Since Merlin’s indifference, Arthur is her next point of interest.

Morgana bites her nails, wondering how she’ll convince him to go against his father. In the past, she pleaded to his morality and egoism of being a better man. This is no longer feasible because they have grown apart. He’s no longer the boy she knew, and quite frankly, he stopped being one before Morgause ever took her. She then thinks back to what Uther said and is at a loss as to why it has anything to do with her. Something must have happened to him during her absence. A sense of dread blankets her entirely as her chest beats louder. Her fingers then curl into fist, and she feels bone-tired. Could the changes in Arthur be related to her coming back and screwing with the timeline? Will this mean that her sacrifice might be in vain?

Not to mention, there’s also Morgause whose meeting she rejected. Morgana chides herself for acting rash by following Uther instead of slipping out. She needed to carry out the next phase of her plan soon.

All these things swirl in her mind, making her temple throb.

“Morgana—?”

She lifts her head toward Gwen’s direction and blinks, completely forgotten that Gwen has been talking to her. “Yes?”

Gwen purses her lips together, giving her a strange look. “Are you alright? Do you want some tea before you take your rest?”

“No, I’m fine,” she answers quickly. “Thank you for being here.”

Gwen smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning. Rest well.”

She nods and watches Gwen takes her leave.

Sweat licks his forehead before his eyes shoot open. His chest rises and falls as he heaves heavy breaths trying to calm his racing heart. It takes him a second or two to realize that he’s in his bed, half dressed, and slightly intoxicated. He could smell the alcohol in the air, and it makes him regret drinking so much. He made it a goal to not overdo but the incident earlier weighted on his mind, along with the recent dream of Morgana dying that he went a bit overboard.

He can’t decipher if the dreams are a premonition or not because he doesn’t recognize the place, the sword, nor the face of the person that plunges the sword through her stomach. He just remembers completely giving up and giving into death as the acrid smell of blood and ashes linger in his nostrils before he loses consciousness.

Arthur hears a quiet click by his door and immediately springs up. His right hand searches for the sword by his bed, about to pull it out, when he sees a flowing, white gown sneaking in. His eyes squint to get a better look. “Morgana—?”

“Arthur,” she says, a bit breathless. Then her eyes divert, noticing that he’s not completely dressed. “Would you mind making yourself more presentable?”

It must have slipped his mind as well. He grabs a tunic and pulls it over his head. “Would you mind telling me why you’re sneaking into my room in the middle of the night—” he then gives her a glance over and finds a lump caught in his throat. Though she has a coat on, it has loosened to where he can make out her silhouette. “In a thin night gown nonetheless. If you were caught—”

She wraps the coat tighter around herself. “There.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” he chuckles and moves on. “So what brings you here?”

She comes closer and sits on the edge of his bed. “I need to speak to you about something—”

“Judging from your tone,” says Arthur, grabbing a nearby glass of water, and sips it before continuing. “It must be about tonight’s incident.”

“Then you know what you must do.”

He sighs, closing his eyes for a second. Right, this is Morgana, at least a part of who she was before she disappeared. He presumptuously thought he didn’t recognize her. “I know what you’ll ask of me.”

She peers up at him innocently. Half her face is casted in shadows and the other half, illuminated by the light, making her eyes sparkle. “Then…?”

“I can’t go against my father, Morg.”

She rises from her seat. “What does that mean?”

He rubs his temple. He did not prepare himself enough to face her. “She was found practicing magic on Camelot’s ground. What would you have me do?”

She couldn’t believe her ears at the way he said it like it was nothing, like he was asking for dinner or drink from Merlin with no emotion or sympathy. “Save her.”

“I won’t go against him, Morg.”

“But you’re fine with her being executed.” Disappointment etches across her face as she backs away. He doesn’t think he has ever seen such a reaction from her before, as if she’s finally put him down from the pedestal she put him on. “An innocent woman is about to lose her life, as if being born with something out of one's control is her fault.” Her voice shakes with unrecognized emotions. “I thought you were different from your father, a ruthless—”

“Tread carefully, Morg. He is still the king of—”

“For now.” Her eyes shoot daggers at him. Her voice does not quiver as if her words are a prediction for things to come. “Will this be how you rule?”

His fingers clump to fist. He raises them up then drops them almost immediately. His sight stays on the ground, unable to answer.

“If you don't do anything, I will.”

“Morgana—” His eyes widen as he reaches for her arm. “You're talking about treason.”

“I’m talking about doing what is right because you, of all people, would stand idly by,” says Morgana, flinging his grasp away. Her eyes narrow at him with disgust. “One day you might have to face against someone you know—”

“Is that person you?”

Her lips thin, and her jaw clenches. “That entirely depends on how our fate plays out. I hope that when that day comes, you'll make the right choice.”

Judging by her tone, her words seem to elude to some sort doomed future, and it irritates him because he feels like he can’t understand her anymore. “Is that what your nightmares are telling you?”

That was uncalled for, he realizes when he saw her glaring at him. Without another word, she turns and walks away. He then squeezes his fist tightly, digging his nails into his palms. “I’m sorry. I know that people don’t choose who they are,” he adds quietly, and morosely. Her feet stop at the door but she doesn’t turn around, and he doesn’t try to catch up to her. They stay rooted in their place. “But laws exist for a reason. I understand that not all magical beings are bad—” A huge lump stucks in his throat. “I've yet met one that hasn’t tried to harm us, and even you were taken away—” He doesn’t continue and clears his throat. “My apologies m'lady. I’m sorry that I have disappointed you yet again.”

She turns around with sharp eyes. “Forgive me if I can’t muster an ounce of empathy for your pain, Arthur. You will never understand how it feels to hate who you are, to have to hide who you are, to fear for your life, and to watch those you care for die at the hands of a tyrant. At the end of the day, you’re still their executioner. Years of oppression boil over and you use it as justification for the war you created.”

“That's not—”

Then she quietly says, “How mighty of you, Arthur, and so like your father,” before she takes her leave.

Her words stay with him through the morning as he stares at his dark ceiling, unable to fall asleep.

_\- tbc_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelps, there goes the chapter. I know this is like the slowest of start but next chapter will be based on the s03e01-02. Thank you to anyone that's still here lol
> 
> C/C is always welcomed.
> 
> Thanks for reading~


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